Whoosh.
A rocket pierced the clouds and streaked toward Saitama's position!
Vivian cried out, but Saitama spotted the incoming missile a split second earlier.
He pushed the control stick forward. "Vivian, sit tight!"
Under her stunned gaze, Saitama displayed flying skills that left her speechless. Their rocket plane climbed hard, then slipped away from the pursuing missile in a clean break.
"Ah! Saitama, how are you this good?" Vivian gasped.
"Learning every kind of survival skill is a must for a hero," Saitama said, glancing at her. "But if you think we're out of danger already… that's a little premature."
"We've still got three pursuers on our tail."
Vivian looked at the radar.
Sure enough—three red dots were closing fast just behind them.
"If we really want to shake them, we have to eliminate them," Saitama said. "Vivian, I'm going to turn and engage. Are you scared?"
Looking at Saitama's resolute face, Vivian felt her trust in him deepen.
"Do what you have to do," she said. "Even if we fail, we'll go down together, right?"
Saitama chuckled. They were only three small Decepticon fliers—no way they'd knock him out of the sky.
And even in the absolute worst case, he would never let a delicate beauty end up as a smear on the ground.
"Alright," Saitama said. "Since you're entrusting me with your life, I'll give you an answer you'll be happy with."
He hauled the plane straight up.
Under the Gs of the maneuver, the aircraft stood on its tail—then slid into an inverted retreat.
Saitama rolled back over, brought the nose around, and charged head-on at the three flying Transformers.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
He loosed four armor-piercing rounds at once.
These were anti-Transformer munitions installed on American fighters by the human "Transformer Response Unit"—a contingency in case Transformers ever hijacked aircraft and turned them on human cities.
They hadn't expected the Decepticons to attack that quickly. Those rounds had sat unused in storage… until now.
Perfect for Saitama's counterstrike.
Boom!
Boom!
Two Decepticons failed to evade in time. The shells punched through their chassis and sent them tumbling out of the sky.
The last one sucked in a breath. "Damn it! So that's why Starscream 'graciously' passed this op to us! He knew they had Transformer-killer anti-armor shells!"
Inside the Decepticon intranet, shock rippled through the watchers.
Starscream hissed, "Oh my—has human technology really advanced this far?! An F-36 carrying four armor-piercing penetrators?!"
Megatron slammed the table. "Useless rabble! You can't even get the most basic intel on your enemy!"
Meanwhile, in the American White House—
President Trump was munching his favorite hamburger. Seeing Saitama drop two Decepticons in a blink, he nearly choked.
He forced the bite down, didn't even reach for water, and barked, "Mother— now that's what I'm talking about!"
When he finished, he noticed the looks around him.
Trump scratched his head and grinned awkwardly. "I was just… emphasizing how awesome Saitama is."
Staffers gave him the same look you give a class clown—then, setting that aside, cheered Saitama on. Rooting for the hero didn't mean they weren't also thinking their current president was… not the sharpest tool.
Across the world—
Japan: second-generation Transformers eking out a living in the margins exclaimed, "This Saitama is incredible!"
China: "Saitama's a beast!"
India: "How can one man have both brawn and brains? That's not scientific!"
Saudi Arabia: "If the great hero Saitama would honor us by visiting Dubai, I would present him with seventy-two—no, twenty—servants!"
Since Saitama had liberated city after human city from the Decepticons, every eye on Earth had turned to the hero in the white suit and red cape.
High above the sea, Saitama knew none of this.
All he felt was that the last Decepticon was trickier than the first two.
No wonder. The Decepticon network had ten internal grids, and any unit with the right clearance could jack in. Right now, a super-AI was boosting the survivor's processing to win this round of man-versus-machine.
Two craft—hunter and hunted—knifed forward in a straight line.
In a blink, they'd gone from the U.S. West Coast to the middle of the Atlantic.
Vivian suddenly spotted something: a massive cruise ship below, crammed with refugees drifting from place to place.
"Saitama! We have to leave this route!"
"Why?"
"If the Decepticon catches us here, won't it use those people as hostages?"
"It won't," Saitama said. "I'll finish this before it gets the chance."
"Can you really? Then what's your plan?"
Saitama didn't answer.
He popped Vivian's ejection and launched her clear—then, alone, dove straight at the Decepticon with the plane.
The Decepticon jolted. "He's insane! What is he doing?!"
With the super-AI's help, its calculation throughput spiked; it plotted Saitama's flight path instantly.
Whoosh—
Saitama's fighter flashed past the Decepticon's flank.
"Whew—close one!" the Decepticon exhaled, "Dodged it!"
The next heartbeat, a crushing blow landed on its head.
Darkness. No more signals.
Far below, refugees looking up from the cruise ship saw a mushroom cloud bloom in the sky.
A metal shard stamped with the Decepticon insignia clanged onto the deck.
A child stared wide-eyed. "Mom! Dad! This is the Decepticon symbol!"
But every eye soon drifted from the shard to the figure standing proudly at the ship's prow—and they were struck dumb.
(End of Chapter)
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